


A Dance of Opposing Pawns

by macadoodle1996



Series: Century [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Dark Magic, Dead Lucius Malfoy, Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy Has a Sibling, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gen, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Heir of Slytherin, Hogwarts Founders - Freeform, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Long Distance Relationship, Morally Grey Albus Dumbledore, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Voldemort (Harry Potter), Past Child Abuse, Read to find out how!, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slow Burn, Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Voldemort has a child, Voldemort's Heir, voldemort's daughter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macadoodle1996/pseuds/macadoodle1996
Summary: Evanna Belinda Malfoy is teetering on the edge of two sides of a war she finds herself wanting less and less a part of. Harry James Potter refuses to believe his fate has been decided without his input. The world is engaged in a war that could destroy them both, but they will be pawns no longer.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Voldemort, Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Narcissa Black Malfoy/Severus Snape
Series: Century [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1441081
Comments: 22
Kudos: 38
Collections: Bellatrix/Voldemort Malfoy Manor, Voldemort's Children, voldemort is my past present and future





	1. Chapter 1

April 1984

The toddlers chased each other around the garden, one with hair as straight and fair as could be, the other with bouncing black curls. They shrieked and laughed, playing their game with wild abandon, completely oblivious to the adults speaking in hushed voices at the doorway. 

“--suspicion is falling on us again! If anyone knows that we harbor--”

“--she is blood, Lucius, what choice do we have--”

“--familial ties matter little to the Azkaban guards--”

“--you would throw out  _ his _ heir?”

It was the most fire the woman had spoken with to her husband in many years, and it seemed to serve its intended effect. She continued. 

“You are the one who has said that it’s only a matter of time before he returns to power. That he took many steps to ensure his legacy continues,” she pressed. “She is one of those steps he took. And she has been entrusted to us.”

“She is a little  _ girl _ ,” he said the last word as though it left a foul-taste on his tongue.

“She is the heir to two powerful lines of magic," the woman stood her ground. "She is family."

The man stood silent, frown etched deeply into his face. “She looks too much like Bella. She doesn't look at all like a Malfoy. People will be suspicious.”

“That can be explained away,” the woman said. "It is not out of the realm of possibility for a child to look like her aunt."

“Still…. We cannot allow our connection to her to be emphasized at this time. The Longbottoms' fates have the public looking for someone to hang," the man said. "It was foolish--it wasn't as if it were a couple of mudbloods--no, it was members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight!"

The woman seemed troubled, biting her lip. The little girl gave a particularly shrill shriek as her brother just barely dodged her attempt to tag him. The little boy giggled with glee. 

“We’ll keep her close to the manor,” the woman said. “Draco adores her. It is too late to separate them, you have to realize that, Lucius.”

Lucius frowned as he watched the children play a convoluted game of hide-and-seek. 

“When the Dark Lord returns, he will make her his second in command,” she pressed. “And if we are the one to have raised her…. Will we not also have that power?”

A sudden shout, then a child crying. The woman forsook all notions of propriety and raced to where the children were, both on the ground. The little girl was sobbing loudly, holding a bleeding knee, while the boy’s grey eyes were blown wide in fear. 

“I’m sorry, Mama--Evvy was running--”

“Dray pushed me!” the little girl butted in, lips fixed in a pout. Lucius had followed at a much slower pace, taking in the scene before him with all the focus of a man studying a new business venture. 

“Draco, you should not be so mean to your sister. She is smaller than you,” the woman scolded. “Darling, come here, let Mummy see--”

“Leave it, Narcissa,” Lucius ordered. The little girl looked up at him, large tears spilling from her violet eyes. He crouched in front of her. 

“But Lucius--”

“You may fix the cut when she stops crying,” he said levelly, eyes trained on the little girl. “Consider this day one of your training.”

“She is a baby, Lucius--”

“She is the heir of two great lines, as you said,” he sneered. “This… sniveling is unbecoming of those lines.”

It took several moments, but the little girl stopped crying, though her lip still wobbled and she still clutched at her knee. Lucius then did a complicated motion with his wand and then the torn skin knit itself together. The little girl winced as it did so but did not cry, Draco still wide-eyed in fear as the skin put itself back together. 

“We’ll begin with Tuesdays,” Lucius said. “If we are to do this, Narcissa, we must be sure that Evanna grows into a force to be reckoned with… And that she always remembers who made her into that force.”

Evanna reluctantly took Lucius' hand as he pulled her away from the game with her brother, and her childhood as a whole. 

  
  


July, 1996

“I am glad to see you doing well Sirius. And that you’ve finally agreed to meet with me,” the Headmaster said benignly. Any other time, Sirius might have been tempted to think on times when he and James had ended up in front of this desk after some escapade or another. But, he had put off this meeting for weeks in order to receive a full account of Harry’s childhood and schooling thus far. 

James would have killed the man standing in front of him. 

“I considered leaving the country, but Harry convinced me not to," Sirius glowered. "Even after he realized that you had deliberately stomped all over every one of James and Lily's plans for him."

"Sirius, everyone believed you to be--" 

"I don't want to hear your excuses! You left James' son to be  _ starved _ and locked in a  _ bloody cupboard _ ! And don't tell me you didn't know, not when you had Arabella Figg spying for you all those years!" 

It had taken a while for Sirius to coax that admission from Harry, but when he had, he had been apoplectic. It had taken a well placed petrificus totalus from Remus to head off Sirius' baser instincts in confronting the worthless muggles who had ‘raised’ Harry. He was still tempted to pay Petunia and Vernon Dursley a visit, but had not yet because of the more pressing matters at hand. Namely, how to completely remove Harry from Dumbledore’s machinations. 

"I had to do what was best," Dumbledore said softly, refusing to meet Sirius’ eyes. 

"Best for who?" Sirius challenged. "Certainly not for Harry. And now you're claiming that this  _ fifteen year old boy _ is supposed to kill Voldemort when you haven't in all your infinite power and wisdom?"

The Headmaster was silent. Sirius was reminded of when he and James had first talked of joining the Order, how upset Mrs. Potter had been. 

_ "Dumbledore may be a great wizard, but he never learns from his mistakes! He's sending out younger and more inexperienced students to fight You-Know-Who instead of going himself, just like he did with Grindelwald!" _

"The prophecy clearly states--"

"And how often do prophecies go unfulfilled when they aren't paid attention to, huh?" Sirius demanded. "James and Lily only agreed to go into hiding because  _ Voldemort _ believed the prophecy. They never intended for their son to be anywhere near this war."

"What do you expect me to do, Sirius?" Dumbledore said, his voice harder than the day Sirius was nearly expelled. “We are trying to save our entire world!”

"I don't know--something to keep Harry safe and to end this!"

Dumbledore took off his glasses and pinched his nose as though Sirius had brought about the sudden onset of a headache. It wasn’t implausible; Lily had once called him a walking migraine. That motion caused Sirius to notice something that he had not before. Dumbledore's entire hand was black, shrunken, like that bit of flesh had died but remained attached to the whole body.

"I am trying, Sirius, but I am only an old man. This war will be decided by the new generation."

By Harry, was the implication. But, any sympathy Sirius made have once had for the old man had dried up when Harry had informed him of the Hogwarts letters addressed to the  _ Cupboard Under the Stairs _ . 

"There are a helluva lot of generations between you and Harry," Sirius replied. "I don't want Harry coming back here this year. Hogwarts is not safe for him--I don’t think it ever has been."

Dumbledore seemed momentarily dumbfounded. "Sirius--surely you see this is bigger than you or even Harry. We all have to make sacrifices--"

Sirius glowered. "I think between the two of us, Harry and I have made more than enough sacrifices for the cause."

"I cannot allow you to take Harry. He is our only--"

"Luckily, you are not Harry's guardian," Sirius said, standing. His teenage self would have marveled to see him acting so disrespectfully towards the Headmaster; his present self found it long overdue. "Not to mention, I have papers just waiting to be sent to the Ministry detailing your extreme negligence of your duties as a Headmaster, allowing a student in your charge to be mistreated the way Harry was."

"You will take Harry away from his home--his friends who have been his family--while they are in the fight of their lives?"

And that was the crux of the matter. As angry as Sirius was with Dumbledore, as much as he wanted--no, needed--to protect his friend's son, his godson would not leave England quietly, not while his friends were in danger. That desire to keep others safe had only intensified this summer as Harry realized how close he had come to leading his friends to their deaths at the Ministry at the end of term. Harry Potter would stand between his friends and family and any danger that might come their way. Sirius was proud of Harry for that bravery, much as he wished he could just spirit the boy away to keep him safe. 

“I can’t trust you to keep him safe,” Sirius finally said, side-stepping the question. “You’ve more than failed at that. As far as I’m concerned, he’s not leaving my side until he is at least seventeen and mastered dueling.”

Dumbledore actually had the decency to look shamed at that. “Harry’s five years at Hogwarts have been more eventful than anticipated, certainly.”

Sirius harrumphed at that. To hear Harry’s account, it was amazing the boy had learned anything at all in the past five years for constantly having to worry about his and his friends’ lives. That, and the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position seemed to have only gotten worse from Sirius' school days to the point it was amazing the boy could point a wand and say a spell at the same time during a duel. 

"What if…." Dumbledore trailed off looking contemplative. Sirius was not sure how much he trusted that look. 

“What if what?” Sirius demanded. 

“What if you were to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Dumbledore said. 

Sirius frowned. Of all the things he expected Dumbledore to say, this was not one of them.

“You want me…. To teach,” he said slowly. 

“I find myself needing to fill several posts this year,” Dumbledore continued. “And, once again, that includes the post of Defense. I believe you completed Auror training when you were young?”

“I--yes--but--”

“And of course, I know all of your exploits with the Order in both wars, and you know better than anyone how to combat dementors,” Dumbledore continued. “You would take an active role in training Harry--no matter what you believe his role in this war ought to be, there is no denying that Voldemort will continue to target him.”

Sirius’ mind was reeling. He wasn’t sure which of his old friends would find this the most hilarious--James, Remus, or Lily. Sirius Black, with a detention record thicker than a Norwegian Ridgeback’s tail, being offered a teaching position at Hogwarts. 

“Harry isn’t the only one who needs to be trained,” Dumbledore said. “You could do a lot of good in such a position, Sirius. Hogwarts students in recent years have not had the best of Defense education.”

“I won’t sign a year contract,” Sirius said. “If I get a whiff of danger for Harry, we are leaving England, I don’t care what anyone says about it.”

The old Headmaster’s eyes were twinkling in a way that Sirius hated. He hated that after everything the man had done to fail Harry, that he was still somehow getting his way. It was the same reason Sirius had hated to play chess with his little brother; any time he felt as though he might have pulled ahead, he quickly learned that he had been lured into a trap. 

“I shall tell the house-elves to begin preparing your rooms,” Dumbledore said. “Gryffindor colors, I presume?”

This was more important than any chess game. Sirius would protect his godson, at any cost.

“Fine, Dumbledore,” he all but spat. “But I will do it  _ my _ way.”

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The Manor was full. 

When Evanna had arrived home, she had braced herself for a confrontation with her father. Instead, she had been curtly informed by Bellatrix that her father was on the Continent, negotiating with the Bulgarian Ministry to if not side with them in the coming war, to at least stay out of it. 

And he had left Evanna in charge. 

Malfoy Manor had been transformed from an old money estate into a war camp, full of all manner of unsavory sorts. Evanna had almost immediately called Narcissa and Professor Snape to come and stay, even as her birth mother turned her nose up at her request. As soon as they had arrived, Evanna had brought them into what she had taken to referring to as her parlor and asked Professor Snape to help her set the strongest privacy wards as they could manage. 

"This is a test," Professor Snape said almost immediately once the three were positive that they would not be overheard.

Evanna resisted the urge to something as lower class as to roll her eyes. "That much is obvious. The question is what is he testing?"

"He could have learned of your involvement at the end of term," Narcissa warned. "He's testing to see where your loyalties lie."

"I agree that the Dark Lord is suspicious of your loyalties, but if he know what you did in the Ministry, he would not be leaving you in charge of his entire force," Professor Snape said. 

"He can't be gone for long. It's likely I will have no cause to give any order," Evanna said. 

"Doing nothing would make him more suspicious than if you threw a party for the Headmaster," the professor said derisively. 

"The Dark Lord wanted you to be his perfect second in command," Narcissa said quietly. "So do that."

Evanna looked down. How was she supposed to do such a thing? Murder a one year old? Torture an innocent who had no idea their world existed? 

"I can't do anything that would hurt Harry," she said softly. "Or anyone else who is innocent."

She could practically hear the glass breaking from all the objects her professor wanted to throw in that moment, but he restrained himself. She felt more than watched Narcissa squeeze his shoulder. So she decided to make it worse. 

"You've no right to lecture me on dangerous loves, Severus, so spare me that."

Her professor broke away from Narcissa, pacing to the window, long fingers massaging his temples. Her mother seemed torn on which one to go to at that moment. Finally she went to Evanna, clasping her hands, stilling Evanna's fingers from where they had been nervously picking at a stray thread on the couch in front of her. 

“What goals do you have that matches with your father?” Narcissa said. 

Evanna bit her lip, turning the thought over in her mind. She thought of the little boy in the orphanage, hated by his caregivers and terrified by the explosions in his city. She thought of the green-eyed child hated and derided by his family, not knowing his importance in a world he did not know existed. And she knew what she wanted, how she would right her father’s movement that had taken such a Dark turn. 

“I don’t want another magical child growing up the way my father did,” she said. “We need the names of all magical children being raised by muggles.”

Professor Snape jerked from his position, robes whipping aggressively around his ankles. 

“This has the potential to go very, very wrong, Evanna,” he said. 

“Or it could go right,” she pushed. “Argo Pyrites still sits on the Board of Governors, yes? Lucius always referred to him as one of the old crowd.”

Narcissa frowned. “Argo avoided most of the fighting of the first war, though I know he funded may of the Dark Lord’s causes. He spoke often of a sort of primary school, to educate muggle-borns on their place in the world before sending them to Hogwarts. It was never passed because Dumbledore’s influence.”

“He said that the removal of children from their blood relatives was abhorrent,” Professor Snape said. 

“Do you agree with him?” Evanna pressed. 

“When I was younger, I fully believed magical children should only be raised by magical parents,” he said darkly. “I have since learned not to deal in absolutes.”

Evanna knew he was thinking of Lucius’ treatment of her, but there seemed to be more behind his words, especially as Narcissa took his hand and squeezed it in comfort. 

“Tell Pyrites that the Dark Lady requires the Hogwarts Book of Names,” she said. “I want a full audit of the living situations of magical children living in a home with muggles.”

“You’re effectively asking for a list of young muggleborns to be made by a Death Eater,” he said. “This could go very, very wrong.”

Evanna pursed her lips. She could be putting a list of targets into the hands of a dangerous man. But then, she knew very well that any one of her father’s more influential followers may already have such a list. But she did not. 

“Tell him then that I want a meeting… That as a student of Hogwarts I have a vested interest in protecting current and future students from being caught in the crosshairs of this war,” she said. “Tell him I am also concerned as to the living situations of the most vulnerable students.”

Narcissa had a look on her face that was caught somewhere between fear and pride. Professor Snape looked just as dour as usual. 

"If you don't learn to be more careful, you'll get yourself killed," he growled. 

Evanna did her best to smile. "How could that happen when I have my Potions Master looking out for me?"

"I am no longer Potions Master at Hogwarts," he said. "The Headmaster feared I had too much influence over Harry Potter."

Evanna felt her heart stop. "You--you mean you won't be at Hogwarts anymore?"

It was unthinkable, going to Hogwarts, being near Professor Dumbledore without any sort of protection. She was almost tempted to owl her father then and there, to tell him she would train under him until she came of age, that it would no longer be safe for her to learn in Dumbledore’s school, but… But Harry. What would Harry do in that school with only Dumbledore looking out for his safety? He would be dead within the year, a sacrificial lamb on which the entirety of the Wizarding World rested their hopes--

Professor Snape’s lip curled. “My replacement refused to take on the additional responsibility of Head of House. Currently, there are very few Slytherin alum the Headmaster trusts more than myself, so I am privileged to retain that position. For now.”

The fear that had coiled in Evanna relaxed, if only slightly. The professor rose an eyebrow.

“Do not let that fool you,” he said. “None of us is safe. Dumbledore barely trusts me, your father even less so.”

“Tell Mr. Pyrites I expect him for tea on Friday,” she said, showing more confidence than she felt. Something told her she would be putting on such a front for a while, at least until this war was at an end if not longer. “If he has previous plans, he will rearrange them for his Dark Lady.”

  
  
  
  


Draco POV

Draco despised the hot. His shirts clung to his skin uncomfortably and Egypt’s Ministry was far more strict than England’s about underage magic, so he could not even cast a cooling charm if it did not directly apply to his studies. The sun, too, he hated. It beat down on him almost constantly when he was outside and he could hardly go outdoors for more than fifteen minutes without his skin becoming bright pink and tender to the touch.

“You must stay on your best behavior,” his mother had warned him while they waited on the Portkey to take him to Cairo.

“Yes, I know, Mother,” he had told her, resenting being treated like a small child. 

“You don’t understand what Severus has sacrificed to get you out of the country,” she had pressed. “Dumbledore did not appreciate losing his spy on the Dark Lord’s heir.”

The way she had said it had made Draco squirm with guilt he did not appreciate feeling. 

“I never gave him any important information anyway,” he had mumbled. His mother gave him a look that reminded him she, too, had been a Slytherin, one of three sisters Black, a force to be reckoned with before decades with a cruel husband had diminished her. She seemed to be regaining that old steel. 

“You should know better than to make such deals,” she had told him. “As it stands, you must keep your head done. Please your masters in Egypt, learn all that you can.”

“Yes, Mother,” he told her. “I will write to you when I am settled.”

Without warning, his mother’s blue eyes watered and she looked down, grasping his hand tight enough to leave a bruise. 

“That is the other thing, my son,” she murmured. “We do not believe the Dark Lord will search for you…. But even so. It is best attention not be brought to where you have gone. You must limit your correspondence, especially to anyone associated to the Dark Lord.”

Draco had been afraid before. The way his mother was acting now had him terrified. 

“But Mother--”

“No more time, dear,” she said, kissing his cheek and then his forehead before squeezing him in a tight embrace. “Be excellent, Draco. Stay safe.”

So that was how Draco found himself in Cairo, Egypt, the sun slowly burning him from the inside out, unable to contact his family or his friends--fake or real--or even able to write to his Gryffindor girlfriend. She had once been to Egypt, he remembered. Perhaps she knew how to stay cool. 

What a fall from grace Draco Malfoy had experienced since the Dark Lord’s return. The way his father had once spoken of it when Draco and Evanna were still children, Draco had expected to be treated as a prince when the Dark Lord returned. His sister was now the Dark Lady, but Draco was no more than an exile, his father disgraced and executed. 

Draco realized he had been walking for a rather long time when he realized he did not quite know where he was anymore. Nor did he know Arabic to find his way back to the alchemist’s lab, nor who might be safe to ask for such directions. Cairo did not have a Diagon Alley like London did; instead, magical spaces were integrated into muggle places, usually places of learning or healing. The alchemist--Abasi Mostafa--kept his lab in the basement of a muggle university building.

Draco pushed the urge to perform a point-me charm to the very bottom of his mind. His mother’s warnings to behave had kept him from using any magic, no matter how hot or lost he was, and from sending any letters, no matter how pathetically lonely. He would just have to find his way back. 

Noticing a stall full of scarves and jewelry so fine magic  _ must _ have been involved, Draco decided he would have to ask for help. Of course, the stall-keep had to be a beautiful girl with olive skin and ebony hair. 

“Erm,” Draco coughed awkwardly, doing his best to remember the Arabic phrases he had memorized at the end of the term. “ _ Wa 'alayku-- _ ”

The girl giggled and shook her head. “It is okay. I can speak English.”

“Oh thank Merlin,” Draco muttered. She giggled again. 

“I have met many tourists,” she said. “But I have never heard that phrase--who is this Merlin you thank?”

Draco felt his face burn even more than it already had that day, and he glanced down at the amulets in front of him. He brushed over a golden eye of Horus, encrusted with semi-precious red stones. He felt a pang of longing for red hair and a razor wit.

“This is meant for protection, yes?” he said.

“Yes, though it may not help your problem,” the girl said, her accent thicker with her amusement. Draco looked up, nervous as to what she may mean.

“Oh? And you know my problem?”

“The entire street knows your problem,” she said, laughing again. “You have walked past my booth four times and you are a red-faced foreigner. You are completely lost.”

Draco pursed his lips. “I suppose I could take my business elsewhere.”

“You could not afford that. It is solid gold.”

“I could afford the entire case,” he countered. “Of course, I am sure that sub-par trinkets are up and down this street.”

“These are no trinkets!” the girl said, her voice rising in anger. Draco nearly smirked. “No other stall has produced the real thing in a thousand years!”

So there was magic involved. Good. 

“So you are telling me this is the real thing? These amulets will provide protection?” he pressed. Her mouth opened wide and then snapped shut with a popping sound. “It’s quite alright if you tell me--I am a student of  _ Ustaaz  _ Mostafa.”

Her eyes widened. She knew who he was talking about. 

“I will take this one,” he said, doing his best not to picture how lovely it might look on Ginny. 

“You must be afraid of something to pay so much to keep yourself safe,” she said as he laid out the proper amount of money. 

“I am perfectly safe here,” he said. “I’m sending this back home.”

The girl glanced over him and smiled. “She must be special.” Draco did not say anything. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Erm, yes actually,” Draco admitted. “Do you know the way back to Al-Azhar University?”

The girl laughed again. “I knew you were lost!”

She quickly gave Draco directions to the university and he walked away from the booth clutching the pendant close. 

“ _ Kaptin _ Malfoy-- _ ’ayn kunt _ \--you were supposed to come back!” the alchemist said as Draco re-entered the workroom. “Ah, a present I presume?”

“An amulet,” Draco admitted. The alchemist’s eyes lost some of their mischievous twinkle.

“Even here we have heard of Wizarding England’s civil war,” he said. “You made a wise decision to stay away from it. You would do well not to go back if what our friend told me is true.”

Draco was not sure anyone in England had ever so casually referred to Severus Snape as a friend. 

“I want to stay away from it,  _ efendim _ ,” Draco said. “But there’s… there’s a girl who is braver than I am.”

Abasi Mostafa grimaced in sympathy, clapping a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I will help you send her this then. But do not make a habit of it.”

Draco nodded, breathing a little easier than he had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse my terrible Arabic. I only know a handful of phrases, and I learned from a guy from Saudi Arabia, not from Egypt. If anyone knows better than what I was able to google, please correct me.


	3. Chapter 3

Argo Pyrites seemed more the eccentric professor type than typical Death Eater when Evanna saw him in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. The man wore voluminous robes that rivalled Albus Dumbledore in ostentatious color, with the addition of odd patches here and there, presumably to cover up holes where experimentation had gone awry. Evanna felt oddly overdressed in her slate grey robes and the circlet her father had given her. Narcissa had all but insisted that she wear it when meeting with the school governor.

“ _ You must remind him who you are _ ,” she had said. “ _ Currently, you are still young and untested. Those closest to you recognize your power, but especially with your father so far away, you must rely on such imagery. _ ”

Bellatrix had been the most maternal Evanna had ever seen her; that is to say she had hovered over Evanna, second-guessing every decision she made. 

" _ This is how you want to assert your power? Meeting with an old academic? _ " 

" _ Father says the future of the Wizarding World lies in Hogwarts, _ ” Evanna had told her biological mother blandly. “ _ Given that I am still a student there, I am inclined to agree.” _

“ _ Be careful that you do not overreach, daughter, _ ” her mother said lightly. It seemed, for once, that there was a note of genuine concern to the older woman’s voice. “ _ You have so much potential--do not let it be wasted. _ ”

“ _ I know what I am doing, Mother, _ ” she had said, sounding more like a petulant teenager than she ever had. Bellatrix seemed to notice this as well, for she had smirked. 

“ _ One last bit of motherly advice--bring the snake with you. Old Pyrites sometimes needs put in his place. _ ”

Evanna coughed lightly as she entered the room Pyrites was waiting in. He seemed to be absorbed in studying the great portrait of Septimus Malfoy hanging on the wall. The blonde was covered in military awards, sword buckled against one hip and snake-topped cane with hidden wand in his other hand. 

“Oh! Milady!” he exclaimed, bowing somewhat clumsily. 

Evanna stepped closer to the portrait. “I see you are interested in history--Great-Grandfather Septimus played a pivotal role in the war against Gellert Grindelwald. Though, I suppose his relation to me is a bit further removed.”

Evanna perched herself carefully on one of the armchairs, posture as though she were a queen sitting on a throne. With a smooth movement of her hand even Narcissa would have been proud of, Evanna gestured for Pyrites to sit. He did so with a rather theatrical show of creaking joints and a sigh to cover his not-so-subtle studying of Evanna. 

“I must admit,” the old man said. “Based on your record, I would not have connected you to the Dark Lord.”

Evanna could see at the forefront of the old man’s mind her own school records, how close she had come every year to failing Charms and Transfiguration. The way she seemed to kill every plant she touched in Herbology. Though her marks in Potions and Ancient Runes and Defence had always been close to the top of her class, there was no denying that she was not the child prodigy that her father had been in Hogwarts. She fought the urge to blush, instead hissing at such a low level that the school governor would not hear. 

“As I am sure you are aware, Governor,” she said coolly, “there are circumstances at Hogwarts that go unnoticed which prevent a student from achieving all they should. And there are talents that go completely ignored which prevent a student from reaching their full potential.”

Evanna did her best not smirk as a heavy weight landed on her shoulders and Pyrites eyes went wide. Evanna slowly stroked Nagini’s heavy head and the snake flicked her tongue out lazily. 

“I did not mean any offense--”

“Of course you did,” Evanna said bluntly. “Though perhaps not to myself. But you would do well to remember that for all I grew up in this house, I am no Malfoy.”

She had learned from Narcissa that Argo Pyrites had often resented Lucius’ rather heavy-handed--or heavy-galleon’ed as it was--manner of governing Hogwarts. He had often made a point to mention that the top-performing student for the class of 1998 was not Draco, but instead a muggleborn girl. Draco had come in second every year. Evanna, for the year of 1999, had not even made the rankings. 

“How can I be of service to you my lady?” the old man said carefully, eyes never leaving Nagini.

“I wish to hear of your opinion on the state of education for magical children coming into our world after being raised by muggles,” Evanna said, watching the man’s face carefully. 

As she expected, there was a slight sneer to his face. 

“It is the height of injustice for a magical child to be forced to grow up thinking they are one of  _ them _ ,” he hissed. Evanna rose an eyebrow.

“I must say, I have not heard many of my father’s followers who seem to sympathize with muggleborns,” Evanna said, unsure what to make of the man before her. That is, until he seemed to stiffen. Whatever House it was that Argo Pyrites had been Sorted into, Evanna had begun to think it was not Slytherin, for more reasons than one.

“Hasn’t it been in the papers that Harry Potter himself was raised by muggles?” he said, deflecting. “The things that Skeeter is saying his muggle relatives did to him…. Complete animals, I tell you.”

Evanna had, in fact, been reading the papers fastidiously. Sirius Black had awoken from his coma to take full custody of Harry Potter. Albus Dumbledore was in disgrace after it had been announced that the late Potters had had a list of nearly a dozen magical families they had wished Harry to go to in the event of their untimely deaths. Then had come the rumors and yet-to-be-confirmed reports of being worked like a house-elf, starved for food and affection, forced to live in a cupboard. Nagini hissed when Evanna soft strokes became more like a thump on the head. 

“ _ Ssssorry, lossst in thought _ ,” she hissed, ignoring the way that Pyrites shuddered at her casual use of Parseltongue.

“ _ Don’t let it happen again _ ,” the large snake hissed back angrily. Nagini was not near as taken with Evanna as the basilisk Del. 

“And your solution is to what? Take any magical child from muggle guardians as soon as they show signs of magic? Surely the muggles will fight back against that,” she said. 

_ My parents did not. Perhaps my sister would be alive… _ .

“Forgive me, my lady, but you have spent little time among muggles indeed if you do not think they would be relieved to get rid of the child who has just caused all the light bulbs in the house to explode or has just made the dog purple with green spots. Growing up in a house like this…. Forgive me for thinking you have been sheltered from much of the world's cruelty."

His chuckle was not cruel, but there was a bit of darkness to it. Evanna rose an eyebrow. 

"Given how little I have been present at society functions, I do not believe anyone can make assumptions on my upbringing," she said coolly. She felt a wave of curiosity from the governor, but she brushed it off. "Nevertheless, it is true I've little experience in the muggle world."

"I am sure that is by design, milady," he said cautiously. 

"I need a list of all underage magical children being raised in muggle homes. I want to know if they are being given the opportunity to learn without fear of their families," she said. "I am sure someone of your background can handle that."

Pyrites' face went an odd splotchy color. He had worked hard, she was sure, to bury his lineage under an eccentric personality and strange areas of expertise. Funnily, she thought of her father teaching himself to fly simply because no one had ever told him magic could not do that. Or even of Harry, producing a Patrons at age thriteen and somehow still being unaware of just how powerful a wizard he was. It was a scary thought that perhaps muggle-raised wizards had an advantage over the old families. 

"I will do what I can," the man said carefully. Evanna could sense he was trying to circumvent her, that she would need to make sure he did as she told him. 

"I expect your initial list in three day’s time, when we will discuss a timeline for checking on the children," she said. "It would be best that you remember orders from myself shall be regarded the same as my father's  _ orderssss _ ."

She let the last word slip into a hiss, that had Nagini rousing from her half-asleep state to flicker her tongue at the older man again. 

This time, he could not repress his shudder. 

His words stuck with Evanna though. While her upbringing had been far from idyllic, she had no experience whatsoever with muggles. The closest she came was the half-bloods and muggleborns she knew from Hogwarts. And yet, she knew her father expected for the pair of them to usher in a new era in which wizards lived openly among the muggles, bringing an end to the awful wars the muggles had fought in the past century. But she had learned that there was a strong disconnect between what her father said he wanted to be his legacy in this world and what it actually was. 

So, the day before Argo Pyrites was supposed to bring her the list of muggle raised children, Evanna dressed in her least-wizardly outfit--a short-sleeved robe that looked more akin to a sundress and flat mary-jane shoes. She did not tell anyone before slipping into the drawing room and Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was emptier than Evanna had ever seen it; she supposed the events of the end of term had many people taking precautions and staying home. 

“Welcome, young lady,” the barkeep said, nodding his head to her. “Any table is open if you are staying….”

He trailed off hopefully. She supposed he had not had much business of late. But, she was a woman on a mission. Still, it never hurt to support a small business….

“I’m just passing through,” she said, “a little… gift shopping. So if you could not mention that you saw me…”

She gave a charming wink as she lay a few gold galleons on the greasy counter. He chuckled, nodding his head and winking in return. Evanna did her best to not look as nervous as she felt stepping out on the muggle London side of the pub instead of the Diagon Alley side.

_ HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK! _

Evanna nearly yelped aloud as a large truck blasted past her, nearly splashing her with fetid water from a puddle. The difference between the empty pub and the busy muggle street was staggering. Sounds came from everywhere, people were  _ everywhere _ , vehicles flying down the road, buildings that looked impossibly tall to have been built without magic, a fine mist of rain that was not blocked by climate charms, noise, noise,  _ noise-- _

_ ….missed the bloody bus again…. _

_ ….don’t think he’s just working late…. _

_ ….I swear to God if she has left…. _

_ ….oddest fashion on the young these days….. _

_ ….the child has to stop…. _

_ ….never wanted to be living like this…. _

_ ….wish he would bleeding commit…. _

_ ….why am I so…. _

_ ….I should just quit this damned job…. _

_ ….hope she will say…. _

_ ….will he ever act normal…. _

Somehow, the thoughts of the muggles were every bit as disorienting and varied as when Evanna ventured into huge groups of wizards. If anything, the thoughts came at her stronger, without any natural magical defenses to keep them from assaulting the forefront of her mind. She forced herself to walk forward, head down so as to avoid the eye contact that would surely only worsen the voices swarming in her head for attention. She walked quickly, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that might provide a moment’s respite from the Merlin-damned noise of the muggle-world.

After a block or two of Evanna bumping into various muggles as she did her best to avoid eye-contact, she started to feel a little more normal, her defences snapping back into place to keep out the noise. Still, she was relieved to spot a sign for a park up ahead. Even if it was crowded, at least she would be removed from the constant movement that was muggle London.

She heaved a sigh of relief as green and trees took the place of the grey of too-tall buildings and pavement. The first bench she came across, she sunk onto, closing her eyes for just a moment, before realizing that she had sat down beside someone. 

“Pardon me, I didn’t notice--”

She opened her eyes to find green eyes staring back at her, a disbelieving grin just below.

_ This may be my best summer yet. _

“Ev?”

Evanna blinked a few times, wondering just how it was that fate always seemed to guide right to Harry James Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things--  
> 1) Nagini being a trapped Indonesian woman in a snake's body being forced to do an evil wizard's doing is stupid. So for this story, she's never been anything more than a snake.  
> 2) A muggleborn Death Eater (or at least Voldemort follower)?? This version of Voldemort he is more concerned about setting up wizards as a ruling class over muggles, with of course himself as the ultimate ruler. In canon, we know that he tried to recruit Lily Potter, as well as choosing the half-blood to "mark as his equal", so I thought to play with the idea that Lily was not the first muggleborn he tried to recruit and perhaps he had once succeeded?  
> 3) Evanna is finally on her journey to realizing the ideas she has been raised with are not necessarily what's right. Soon, perhaps, she will be creating her own path instead of following one side or the other of the war.


	4. Chapter 4

For once in his life, Harry seemed to be having some amount of good luck. Before the end of term, he had finally kissed the girl he had been pining over since second year. What’s more,  _ she _ kissed  _ him _ back. When he got off of the Hogwarts Express it had been Sirius, not the Dursleys, waiting to take him home. If he had cast a Patronus in that moment, it would have driven out all the dementors in Azkaban. The only blight on his summer was Sirius’ original desire for him to not go back to Hogwarts, but even that had been cleared up. Most days were spent with Sirius and Remus, training or hearing stories about their antics at Hogwarts, more than some of the time spent playing pranks on each other. It felt like a family. On days when Sirius had meetings with the goblins or the Ministry to sort out everything that had happened in the past fifteen years, Harry had taken to wandering muggle London streets, frequenting all the pubs and ice cream shops that he never got to visit when living with the Dursleys.

And today. Today he had bumped into his new girlfriend without even intending to. He could not help the grin on his face. 

“Potter,” she suddenly stood from the bench she had unexpectedly plopped herself onto beside him. “What--I mean--you shouldn’t call me that!”

Her lovely purple eyes were flitting around, searching out threats like her brother or Housemates like they were still at Hogwarts. Harry’s grin widened as something struck him. 

They were  _ not _ at Hogwarts.

“Evanna what are you doing?” he said, standing and walking towards her slowly, imitating what Remus had said Sirius once acted like around girls he liked in their school days. Her cheeks reddened.

“Merlin, Potter, we’re enemies, remember?” she pushed. “People watching may get the wrong impression.”

“Tell me,” he said, still smiling as he took another step toward her, “when was the last time Death Eaters went for a stroll in a muggle park?”

Harry had never been exactly tall, but he felt like he was on top of the world as he looked down into her eyes. He could see the moment that she realized what he had. 

They were free. 

First her lips twitched up, then her face split into a full smile that nearly took his breath away.

“Not ever that I can recall,” she said before reaching forward on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his. 

Harry’s eyes closed automatically and he slipped one hand around her waist, the other going to her hair. It had grown since her hasty chop a year ago, past her shoulders in lovely, soft ringlets. Fire seemed to shoot up his veins as Evanna pressed her small body closer to his in response. After a moment or two, she pulled away from him, though she did not go very far. He had no intention of letting her. 

“What was that you were saying about being enemies?” he teased. She laughed, scowling playfully at him. 

“It is called  _ caution _ , Potter,” she drawled, the use of his last name sending tingles up his spine. “You might learn some.”

“And you might unlearn some,” he replied cheekily, pulling another kiss from her lips, reveling in the fact that he could do so without worry. She pulled away more quickly than the first kiss, a pretty blush across her cheeks. 

“Harry,” she admonished, twisting away from him. “A little discretion. We are still in public.”

“We are, aren’t we?” he said brightly. “We’re in a public place, but no one knows who we are. I suppose there is only one thing to do, isn’t there?”

“What would that be?” she asked, smiling.

“Evanna Malfoy, would you go on a date with me?”

She smiled. “You are ridiculous, Harry Potter.”

But she took his hand anyway.

Harry thought for a moment, before deciding what to do, remembering the mushy films that Aunt Petunia liked to watch. A dinner and a movie, that was the classic date, wasn’t it? Of course, the last time he had been to the cinema was when the school had taken them all on a field trip to see a musical about a red-haired orphan. The only thing he remembered was telling a teacher that Mrs. Hanigan reminded him of Aunt Petunia, which had caused him to spend a month in the cupboard when the teacher repeated it to the Dursleys. Still, the thought of sitting in a dark room besides her, holding her hand, perhaps more….

Yes, this was a sound plan. 

"Where are we going?" she asked. 

"Have you ever been to the cinema?" he asked. She gave him a blank look. 

"I assume that is some sort of muggle place?" she asked. "You should know the answer to that." 

He grinned. "It's sort of like a cross between a play and a Wizard's photograph. You want to go?"

Evanna nodded and off they went. When they arrived, Harry had thought to see the latest Ralph Firmness movie, but Evanna had been entranced by  _ Romeo + Juliet.  _

"I had no idea that muggles liked Shakespeare," she said. "I mean, how do they even do it?"

Harry laughed. "William Shakespeare was a wizard?"

"Well, how do you think they had a bear onstage if it wasn't an animagus?"

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so instead he just ordered some popcorn and soda. Evanna had wrinkled her nose adorably at the bubbly sensation of the soda, but had politely insisted that “it isn’t….. terrible". Somehow, the look of polite disgust made him feel even more in love with her than the day he had accidentally blurted out to Snape. 

She nearly jumped into his arms when the movie started, the loud music of the credits startling her. She then started straining to look over the seats. Several people behind them grumbled. 

“What are you looking for?” Harry whispered. 

“Where is the orchestra?” she asked in a low voice. 

He did his best not to laugh, he really did, but there was little use for such a thing when sitting next to someone who could read minds. 

“There is no orchestra,” he whispered back into her hair. It smelled like lavender. “They recorded it.”

“But--”

Someone from behind shushed them loudly. Harry grabbed Evanna’s hand, a small part of him just trying to keep her from reaching for her wand, but the much larger part because he was fascinated with how much smaller her hand was than his. 

Evanna only had a few questions after that (“In the play they had swords!” “Why is Mercutio dressed like that?” “Are you sure there isn’t magic involved in this?”), but mostly she leaned her head against his shoulder. Harry found himself paying a lot more attention to the lavender scent of her hair, the tickle of her breath against his skin than he did the movie. 

As Romeo took the poison, he noticed that his shirt felt a bit damp. He looked down to see Evanna’s face was shining from the light coming off the screen, tear tracks outlining her cheeks. He cupped a hand around her cheek, lifting her face to face him. The fear and sadness were evident in her eyes… He had no need to read her mind at that moment. 

“That won’t be us,” he whispered. “I swear.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Harry Potter,” she whispered back.

“I won’t.”

She seemed to search his face before reaching forward and kissing him deeply, her hands burying themselves in his hair, the arm rest between their seats digging uncomfortably into his abdomen as Juliet lifted Romeo’s gun behind them. But what did that matter when she was there, kissing him in the muggle world, where there was no prophecy, no Voldemort, no Dumbledore, no anything to say they shouldn’t be anything more than two teenagers falling in love?

She was quieter as they walked out of the cinema, though she still held his hand.

“I’m not the one who can read minds, Evanna,” he said, the silence feeling unbearable. She blinked, seeming to return from someplace far away. 

“I never knew that muggles could create something like that,” she said. “Something that could make you feel….”

She trailed off. Harry squeezed her hand. 

“Hermione could probably tell you more about it than I could,” Harry admitted, before finally asking. “What are you doing around muggle London anyway?”

Evanna looked away, biting her lip. “I wanted to learn what it's like for myself. He--he was raised here. In muggle London. He made everything sound so terrible.”

It took Harry several moments to realize who Evanna was talking about, the notion was so outlandish. Voldemort… raised in the muggle world. He remembered from that awful night in the graveyard, that Voldemort had said he had a muggle father, but this…

She stopped walking, pulling him to a stop as well. The look on her face was fierce, every ounce the “Dark Lady” the Slytherins whispered about. Harry knew what she was likely about to say, but with every fiber of his being he disagreed. 

"We should do this again," he said quickly before she could say anything. 

"Harry--"

"Not a single person has recognized me once out here. And obviously you have no trouble leaving when you want to--youve been with me the entire day. So why don't we do it again--say Friday at one?"

Harry gave her what he hoped to be a winning smile. She frowned. 

"You do realize how utterly ridiculous all of this is? All the things that could go wrong if my father or Dumbledore were to find out?" she pushed. "Don't give me that look, Harry Potter, you know I don't want things to be this way--"

He reached forward and kissed her softly. She melted against him and he knew there was nothing in the world that could stop him from falling in love with her. Not Dumbledore, not Professor Snape, not her Merlin-damned father. 

He had known her first. 

"I know we won't be able to see each other like this at school," he told her, "so why shouldn't we take advantage of this while we can?"

Evanna still looked hesitant. "Careful, Potter, your Slytherin is showing."

He smiled and squeezed her hand again. 

"I--I suppose another date couldn't hurt," she finally said. "But I really must be going now."

"I suppose it would be too much for me to be able to walk you back to the Leaky?" he asked. 

She shook her head. "You know that would be reckless."

"Can't have you thinking I've gone completely over to the green and silver."

She shook her head again, this time smiling. "I'll see you Friday, Harry."

Harry did not stop smiling the rest of the day. 

  
  
  


Voldemort 

It had been a long time since Voldemort had conversed with international magical leaders, though not as long as it seemed he had been kept waiting for. The Bulgarian Minister, it seemed, was not a stickler for punctuality. By the time the minister finally arrived, Voldemort was nearly ready to shoot an ‘avada’ at the man. 

“Velcome,” the minister said with a thick accent as he gave a firm handshake. Voldemort respected how well he hid his flinch. “I ‘ope you have not been waiting for too long.”

“I hope I have not been waiting for nothing,” Voldemort replied silkily. “Have you had time to think about my offer?”

“I must say, the magical Britain of two decades ago…. There vas a reason my country did not become involved,” the man said uncomfortably. 

“I do not anticipate this war to be drawn out,” Voldemort said. “I have learned from my past… shortcomings.”

“I must say--I am a family man. I cannot--”

“This is your family?” Voldemort lifted a picture frame off the minister’s desk. “Your daughter?”

The little girl smiling at the camera had wild curls and missing front teeth, a young version of her father behind her, his hand on her shoulder, proud and strong. There was something in the child that made Voldemort think of his own heir, though he had never known her so young and carefree. Evanna had not been what he expected in more ways than one. He had not intended to leave her alone this summer for even a moment, but upon learning the Bulgarians and other Eastern European countries were thinking of allying with the British Ministry, Voldemort had to act. And, he had reasoned, giving Evanna some amount of command would be useful. He could learn what her priorities were, determine her loyalty to him while Bella kept a close eye on the girl before he set her to kill his oldest enemy. Thus far, she had set a meeting with Argo Pyrites, a move which Voldemort had not expected. 

Pyrites had been a Ravenclaw muggleborn, just a few years younger than Voldemort. He had been among the original Knights of Walpurgis, wanting retribution against his parents for the murder of his twin when they had started showing signs of magic. He had been amongst the most vocal of those wanting to pull muggleborn and magical children from their muggle guardians. It had not been the most popular stance amongst the family oriented Pure-bloods, but it had resonated deeply within orphaned Tom Riddle. 

And, it seemed, it had with his daughter, too. His daughter who had been raised by the height of Pureblood society, but had been so loathed by who he had thought to be his most useful follower that she had lost access to entire swaths of her magic. Oh, the girl was still powerful, and likely could one day perform feats of Dark Magic that not even Voldemort could, and that was not even considering the Ancient Magic that flowed through her veins from her mother. 

But would she do it? That was the question. Any other of his followers he would have severely punished, maybe even killed for the suspicions being raised about her loyalty. But, somehow, he could not bring himself to hurt the girl that was of his own flesh. He had been able to murder his father and grandparents without a second thought, but his heir, who was so like him, who seemed to hang all her hopes on every bit of praise, every bit of recognition, every bit of affection he gave her…. 

The minister seemed nervous that Voldemort had lingered over the picture of his family. 

“She is grown now, into a vonderful vitch,” the minister admitted, taking the frame and turning it around forcefully. 

Voldemort then made a calculated move. "Unfortunately, I was not there when my daughter was that age."

With a feeling of victory, Voldemort watched as the Minister's eyes widened. "You--you 'ave a daughter?"

"She is entering her OWL year," Voldemort said. 

"Vith a father such as you, I am sure she vill do vell."

"She is certainly more powerful than her peers," he said, lips curving into something of a smirk. "Her upbringing was…. Not as I would have wished. But she has managed to overcome much of it already. She is committed to bringing our world out of the shadows, creating a new Camelot."

"You should be very proud of such a child," the minister said, his dull eyes roving over the Dark Lord's face. 

"I consider her one of my greatest accomplishments," the Dark Lord said. He was surprised and a little concerned to realize that he meant it. 

It had worked, though, for the Minister had crossed the room and poured two small glasses of firewhiskey, before handing one to Voldemort. 

"I believe ve may be able to find some common ground," the minister said, tipping his glass to Voldemort before tipping it back. 

The Dark Lord smiled. 


	5. Chapter 5

Evanna frowned as she went over the list for what seemed the umpteenth time. She had had no idea so many students at Hogwarts had been raised by muggle relatives, many of them because of parents who had lost their lives in the previous year. There were students from all houses represented, though there were fewer students being raised by someone other than their parents in the years younger than Evanna. Still, it was quite the list to go through, though at least Pyrites had been kind enough to mark the students whose Heads of House had made note of as acting strangely. Of course, Harry Potter was chief among those, but Evanna was surprised to notice her own roommate, Eva Blishwick, on the list. 

“This will take forever,” she grumbled to herself, sharpening a quill with gusto.

It had been over a week since Evanna had gone on the muggle date with Harry, and they had been out twice more, meeting at a little cart that served fried fish and chips. They were supposed to go out a third time, if she could get a handle on this damned list. 

“ _ You’ve never had fish and chips? _ ” Harry had said, gaping at her as he poured vinegar over the chips. 

“ _ Newspaper is hardly considered proper dinnerware in Malfoy Manor _ ,” she admitted. 

“ _ I forget I have such a posh girlfriend _ ,” he teased. “ _ I wonder-- _ ”

He had stopped then, as Evanna had smeared tartar sauce on his nose. She grinned thinking about it. 

She nearly knocked over her inkwell when Narcissa barged in without warning. Her eyes flicked over Evanna, taking in the denim trousers she had decided to try wearing for the first time and sleeveless top that showed without a doubt that her left arm was unmarked. Her aunt-mother’s lips pursed into a frown as she crossed the room to Evanna’s wardrobe, pulling out formal black robes with flowing sleeves and a shifting serpentine pattern. 

“Mother, what--”

“You need to change,” Narcissa said.

“I have plans--”

“Not anymore,” Narcissa said. “Your father is home.”

For a moment, Evanna was thrown backwards into her childhood where those words meant bruises and cuts and curses and just for a moment she couldn’t breathe… And then she remembered. That father was dead. Buried. Wiped away as though he had never existed and the world was better off for it.

And her real father was all the more dangerous. 

Evanna took the robes from Narcissa and ducked behind her changing screen, shimmying out of her denims quickly.

“And? Is he….”

She wasn’t quite sure what to ask. Well? Tired? Angry? 

“Bella said that he was successful in his mission. He seems to be in a good mood,” Narcissa said carefully. “He wants a full report of what you have been doing since he’s been away.”

Evanna stepped out from the changing screen and stood in front of her mirror. Her hair had grown out past her shoulders after the rough chop at the end of her third year. She had finally gained an inch or two in height, giving her more of the image she ought to have as the heir of the Dark Lord.

“Hand me that jar of Sleakeazy’s, would you?” she said. Narcissa did so, also passing Evanna a comb. “What has Aunt Bella--Mother already told him?”

“As far as I can tell, he knows about your meeting with Pyrites,” Narcissa said carefully as Evanna ran the hair potion through her curls. “I don’t think Bella even realizes how much time you’ve been spending out of the Manor, though.”

Evanna nodded, smoothing her hair into a high ponytail. She pulled the skirt of her robes down, studying the way that they flared at her knees. It occurred to her that she no longer looked like a child, not that she had ever really been one. She turned to Narcissa.

“Do I look like the Dark Lady?” she asked wryly.

“Be careful,” Narcissa warned. “Please, Evanna. I know that you’ve got ideas in your head about what your place is in this war--”

“You worry too much, Mother,” she said, giving Narcissa a kiss on the cheek. "He's in the study, I presume?"

"Yes, but--"

Evanna did not allow her once mother to finish her statement and instead swept from the room toward the study where her father waited on her. She took a moment to breath deeply through her nose, steeling her mind and burying any thoughts of Harry down, down, down, before knocking on the door. 

"Enter," came her father's cold voice. 

This time, he was not in a chair in front of the fire, but instead sitting behind the grand desk, much the same as Evanna had been not ten minutes before. She dipped her head briefly to him, refusing to betray an ounce of wrong doing she had done by acting more subservient than he had told her to be. He rose from the desk and opened his arms. 

"Evanna," he said, a hint more of warmth in his voice. Evanna smiled herself and went into his embrace. The feel of his magic surrounding her was almost overwhelming enough that she nearly didn't notice the probing tendrils of magic in her mind. She thought of her meeting with Pyrites, of the Slytherins approaching her at the end of the year, of anything that her father would approve. When he drew back from her, he didn’t exactly smile, but Evanna could tell that he was satisfied with what she had shown him. None of it was a lie, she reassured herself. Her father wanted the wizarding world to come out of hiding. He wanted magical children to be safe, to understand their place in the world. 

“Father,” she said. “How was the continent?”

“I went with the intention of making world leaders agree to neutrality as I fought against the British Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore’s faction,” he said. “Instead I gained allies who will join us in our crusade to free the magical world.”

Evanna blinked. She knew from the history books that the first war had been largely left to the British Isles, that very few international wizards had seen the need to interfere in what they thought of as an internal conflict. But, if her father had succeeded in selling his cause to a more international army…. 

"And I have you to thank," he continued. 

"Me? But--how--I--" Evanna swallowed hard. She wasn't sure yet if she was happy with these alliances, if it was a good or bad thing for their world. To be part of them…. 

The Dark Lord smirked a little and gestured for her to take a seat as he sat behind the desk again. She blinked away the image of half-moon glasses and icy cold eyes. 

"Sometimes it is shrewd to reveal weakness, if it gives your opponent reason to connect with you," he said. "By revealing myself as a parent, our new allies were able to see past Dumbledore’s lies and begin to envision a better future for our world.”

Evanna’s mind was spinning. “What does that mean? How many… how many allies have we gained?”

“Thus far, the Bulgarian, Greek, and Romanian Ministries have made formal alliances with us,” her father said. “Albania is ready to give us what we want as well. Several others have agreed to neutrality, but I am positive that they will quickly join us as it becomes obvious who will win this war.”

“Wow--that--wow,” she said, still unable to fully process what this all may mean going forward. 

“Luckily as I travel securing alliances, I have someone looking over my interests at home,” her father said. “Your mother says you met with Argo Pyrites?”

“Yes, he has a plan for a school--”

Her father held up a hand. “I am well aware of Argo’s ambitions. While I do believe it to be an… interesting project for you to work on, there are more pressing matters.”

“I wouldn’t think there would be any more pressing matter than the future of the Wizarding World,” Evanna argued, “we lost so many magical Britons in the last war--”

“We need to rebuild our numbers, I am aware,” her father said, leaning forward on the table, “but children ignorant of our world won’t win this war. We need to recruit fighters.”

Something deep in Evanna rebelled at that. War--war was ugly. It was why there were only three girls in her dorm room at Hogwarts, why there were so many orphans amongst her school mates. It was why the Slytherins had come to her at the end of the year, begging for their fathers to come home. 

“There are quite a few of your followers in Azkaban right now,” she said. “We already know how to break them out--”

“ _ I _ ,” her father emphasized the word, “rescued my followers who were locked up in Azkaban because of their loyalty to me. But to rescue every subpar wizard who is caught--it would create a culture of mediocrity.”

Evanna chewed her lip. “You would earn the loyalty of their children, bringing their fathers back home--”

“Their children should already be loyal to me,” her father said darkly. 

Evanna did her best not to show her nerves, not to give any hint of weakness. It had always been dangerous to show fear in front of Lucius; she would not show fear in front of the Dark Lord. 

“But if we rescue them--give them one chance--we solve two problems,” she pushed, “we reclaim fighters and they will be all the more loyal and eager to prove themselves--”

Her father suddenly brought a fist down on the desk and Evanna could not stop herself from jumping. His face had curled up into a snarl for the briefest of moments before he seemed to forcibly relax himself. Evanna remained tense, all too aware of her wand in the holster around her wrist, how quickly it could be in her hand, how much time she had to capitalize on the moment of surprise before her father ultimately took her down--

“I will not be breaking them out of Azkaban,” he ground out slowly. “However, it would be wise for you to gain experience on the field before your mission.”

Evanna blinked, the tension in her body not leaving for a second. “My--my mission?”

Her father smiled, cruelty edged in it. “I have not been teaching you this past year for you to completely sit out this war, Evanna. You will be given the opportunity to prove your power.”

“But--but what mission?”

“Bring home these subpar soldiers and we will discuss it.”

Her father gave her very specific parameters as to who she would be bringing, what she would be allowed to do, the Death Eaters she would have to leave behind. As Evanna finally left the study, she felt as though a pit had opened up in her stomach. 

She was going to Azkaban. And somehow, she knew that would not be the most dangerous thing she would be doing in the near future.

  
  
  
  
  


Harry POV

The door to Grimmauld Place slammed, waking up the old portrait of Mrs. Black, who immediately started screaming filth for all to hear. Harry ignored it, even as he heard Remus, who was staying at Grimmauld Place before going out on another mission to the werewolf packs, trying to shut her up. Instead, he went on to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of pumpkin juice from the cabinet Sirius had placed a chilling charm on. 

He popped off the cap just as Sirius walked in, still muttering curses about his mother. Harry took a large drink of pumpkin juice. 

“Merlin, Prongslet, no need to get my dear old mum started just because one date went poorly,” he said. Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. 

“Who said I had a--”

“The amount of cologne you’ve been wearing just to ‘explore muggle London’,” his godfather put air quotes around the last, eyebrows waggling like a muggle cartoon. Harry felt his face burn and Sirius sniggered. "Trouble in paradise? Did your girl turn up her nose at your  _ l'eau du phénix _ ?"

Harry scowled at Sirius. Truthfully, Evanna had never shown up. He had waited at their usual spot until the owner of the little fish and chips stand had given Harry a free order of chips out of sympathy. He was torn between being irritated at the embarrassment or being worried about why exactly Evanna had stood him up. 

“Harry, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore is still waiting in the parlor,” Remus said, poking his head into the meeting. 

“Dumbledore? Why?” Harry asked.

The scowl on Sirius’ face matched Harry’s feelings exactly. Once, Harry had found Evanna’s insistence that Dumbledore was manipulating him to be crazy, if not a bit insulting as well. But then he had been told the prophecy, right as he was reeling from Sirius’ ‘death’, and everything that had been revealed in the aftermath. 

“Don’t make that face, Padfoot, he is still the leader of the Order,” Remus said. “We still need him. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to regain some goodwill there.”

“I agreed to be the man’s bloody Defense teacher, what more does he want?” Sirius said, hands flinging around in his frustration. 

“He wants to speak with Harry,” Remus said. It sounded as if he had said just that many times. “He’s been asking for over a week--”

“What does he want with me?” Harry said before Sirius could say anything. 

“He says he needs help with a staffing issue,” Remus said. 

“He wouldn’t give me the Prefect position but he wants me to be a professor?” Harry said dryly. 

“Not quite.”

The trio turned as one to see that the Headmaster had evidently become tired of waiting in the parlor. Sirius put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, so tight it was almost painful. Harry had not been so close to the Headmaster since he had destroyed his office and been told of his role in the war. The Headmaster looked older now, his wrinkles deeper, his hair less shiny silver and more dull grey. Even his robes were a boring olive green color, lacking their usual bright prints and lurid colors. Harry’s eyes lingered on the Headmaster’s hand, blackened and shriveled as though it was dead attached to his arm. Harry looked back up at Dumbledore’s face; the old man had clearly noticed him looking and hid his hand in his robes. 

“This was not part of our agreement, Dumbledore,” Sirius said, something of Padfoot’s growl in his voice. 

“I would not be here if it was not imperative to Harry’s training, Sirius,” the Headmaster said. “Currently, I find myself unable to convince an old friend to return to his post at Hogwarts. I believe Harry may be able to help with that. Will you come with me to hire a new Potions master, Harry?”

The entire day had been irksome and confusing, and this was only adding to it. Sirius pulled Harry so he was standing in front of him, both hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to do anything he wants, Harry,” he said in a low voice. “Dumbledore’s problems are not your responsibility.”

Harry glanced over Sirius’ shoulder and for just a moment, he saw a flash of desperation flicker over Dumbledore’s face. He remembered in first year, Dumbledore seeming to be larger than life, a father or a grandfather figure who believed in him. Now, Harry knew that had been an illusion, that the professor who had seemed to hate him was likely the one most concerned for his well-being. And that was apparently now being replaced. It was a chess game larger than one he, Ron, and Hermione had fought their way across five years before. 

Harry found himself wanting to know what Dumbledore’s strategy was.

“What the hell,” he said. “Let’s go.”


	6. Chapter 6

The summer had been beyond boring, despite the odd sort of tension that permeated the Burrow. Fred and George had moved out, leaving the house quieter than it had been in seventeen years, not even Ron's attempts to convince their parents to let him join the Order of the Phoenix quite managed to fill the silence. Ginny's mum had taken to carrying the family clock around with her constantly, and her dad was almost never home between his new job at the Ministry and his duties with the Order had him gone most of the day. Of course, too, Bill had brought home the French wonder as his fiancee, which she could have done without. Ginny had visited with Luna a few times, but never for very long due to her mother's desire to have her youngest within arm's reach as much as possible after the events at the end of term. 

" _ Have you owled Evanna? _ " Luna had asked her once. 

" _ You know I haven't _ ," Ginny replied. 

" _ Bridget says she's worried about her, _ " Luna continued. " _ It must be scary, living in that big house with everything going on _ ."

" _ Evanna is a coward _ ," Ginny said harshly. " _ And so is Bridget _ ."

" _ You know their families-- _ "

" _ They could leave if they wanted to _ ," Ginny said. " _ Others have done it. But I don't want to talk about them anyway--want to go flying? _ "

Harry and Hermione had come for their customary summer visit, but still Ginny had heard nothing from Bridget or Evanna or Draco. Harry, too, had seemed on edge, pulling her aside and questioning her. 

" _ Have you heard from Evanna? _ ” he had whispered on the third floor landing of the Burrow. 

“ _ No, I haven’t, and frankly I don’t want to _ ,” she had replied. 

“ _ Why? What happened? _ ” 

“ _ Do you not remember her hanging us out to dry at the end of term? We asked her for help and she refused, Harry! _ ” Ginny hissed. “ _ You of all people have to understand she is on the other side of this war!” _

Harry had frowned, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets--jeans that finally fit now that he was away from those horrible muggle relatives. “ _ You of all people know her better than to realize it’s not that simple, Ginny _ .”

But it was that simple to Ginny. Draco had all but told her that Evanna was willing to do whatever You-Know-Who asked of her, even if she had not taken the Dark Mark. 

_ Yet _ , Ginny thought to herself snidely. 

It was while Harry and Hermione were still there that there was a tapping at the window. The family paused as Mrs. Weasley went to answer it.

“It’s--it’s a falcon,” Mrs. Weasley said. 

“That’s odd--Bill’s not in Egypt anymore,” Ron said, though it was so garbled by a mouth full of food that only a sister could possibly hope to understand it. 

Ginny's eyes flew open and she was up and across the Burrow kitchen in an instant, just as her mum took the small package from the bird. 

"Ginny, who do you have mailing you from Egypt?" her mother said suspiciously as she read the name on the parcel. 

"No one," she said quickly. Ron elbowed Harry, while Hermione swatted at his hands. 

"Then we should wait for your father to check it for curses--"

"It's fine, Mum!" Ginny exclaimed in a choked voice, snatching the parcel and tucking it into the pocket of her robes. 

"Ginevra--"

"I just remembered--I need to practice some quidditch moves. Who knows who'll be quidditch captain?" she babbled, all but running out of the house. She went straight to the chicken coop--the one place her brothers would not go unless forced--and pulled the package out. 

The address was written in fancy script that just screamed private tutor with emerald green ink. Ginny smiled to herself and shook her head before opening it. She gasped at the ornate necklace sitting on a bed of satin, red stones sparkling in the morning sun. She lifted it out of the box, the zing of magic tingling her skin. Oh, this was insanely expensive, she knew before even reading the note in the bottom of the box. 

_ G-- _

There were several lines of crossed out words that Ginny could not quite make out. She could all but picture Draco, skin more burnt than Ginny’s had been when they had visited Bill, frowning as he tried to figure out what to say to her. 

_ This made me think of you. The witch selling it said there were strong warding spells around it. Please stay safe. It’s probably best we forget each other. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.  _

He had again crossed out several possible closings before landing on:  _ Ever yours, D _ .

Ginny hated herself for the small tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye. Leave it to Draco bloody Malfoy to break up with her via bleeding falcon, while also gifting her a necklace that probably cost as much as her father earned in a week at the Ministry. 

“Ginny?” 

Ginny wiped her face aggressively before looking up to see Hermione coming around the door of the chicken coop. 

Hermione, ever observant, quickly took in the letter, lingering tears, and the pendant in Ginny’s palm. Her brown eyes went wide. 

"Who gave that to you?" she demanded, eyes flicking to the letter. "Ever yours, D?"

Ginny quickly crumpled the letter in her hand, shoving it into her pocket. 

"There's no Gryffindor in your year with 'D' as their initial," Hermione said suspiciously. 

"Well then maybe it's not from a Gryffindor in my year," Ginny snapped. "Some people branch out from their immediate classmates, you know!"

Hermione blinked and Ginny didn't take the time to apologize for her rudeness before marching out of the chicken coop, looking for her broom. She made sure that no one was watching as she slipped the amulet over her head and tucked it under her shirt, the metal nearly as warm as the Egyptian sun on her skin. 

  
  
  


Evanna POV

_ The stone room echoed with yelling voices.  _

_ Evanna glanced around and picked out an old man that looked almost like Salazar, but was off somehow. He was yelling at a younger wizard, spittle flying.  _

_ "My great-grandson," a voice in her ear admitted. She turned to see Slytherin himself. "Somehow, my line only grew angrier the more time that passed after my daughter's slaughter." _

_ "No! We should not hide from them! We ought to rule them--stamp out their base desires to destroy us!" the old Slytherin yelled.  _

_ "What you call for is inhumane!" _

_ "What I call for will protect our children and children's children from the filth that wants to see us wiped out!" _

_ "He's mad," she murmured.  _

_ "Yes," her ancestor said simply. "And he has only a little power left and a family memory of hatred." _

_ "What are you saying?" _

_ Salazar turned steely eyes on her, and for a moment, it was as though she was looking at her father. "The world will never be as it ought with that kind of hatred. Your father is lost. Do not try to save him." _

_ "He's my father," Evanna said.  _

_ "And he has gone farther down the dark path than any of my descendants." _

_ “But--” _

_ “There is nothing that can be done; his soul is too broken. You must stop his plans.” _

Evanna woke with a start, her skin clammy and damp with sweat. She rolled over in her large bed and grabbed her wand, casting a quick  _ tempus _ charm. It was just a few minutes before midnight, when her birth mother was supposed to escort her to the small group of untested Death Eater recruits her father had allowed her for this mission. He had not exactly been happy to send anyone with her, but he was even less happy when Evanna suggested she could go on this mission by herself. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Bellatrix said from the door, not even bothering to knock before she opened it. 

“I would comment on the invasion of privacy, but I’ve the feeling it would not be much good,” Evanna said dryly. 

Bellatrix’s smirk was nothing short of wicked. She tossed a bundle of leather at Evanna. It was an iridescent black, hard scales almost sharp enough to cut. Evanna ran her fingers along a symbol etched into the scales--two serpents, so entwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. She recognized the symbol from the bracelet her mother--Narcissa--had given her as a first year, struggling to contain those odd powers that she had no idea existed.

“The  _ wuivre _ ,” she said. “For protection.”

“It’s Hebridean Black dragonskin. It should help you blend into the dark and protect you in battle,” Bellatrix said. “The bloodlines you carry in your veins are too important to risk, Evanna. So if things go wrong, you forget the others and you get out.”

Evanna blinked. It was quite possibly the most maternal thing her birth mother had ever said to her. She studied the older woman, but her steel grey eyes revealed nothing. When Evanna tried to see behind her mother's eyes, she was met with thorns that pricked at the forefront of her mind. If her father was cold, jagged ice, then her mother was a raging inferno, but just as impossible to read. 

"Things won't go wrong. I've trained for this," Evanna said. 

Bellatrix gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Lucius may have been more of a bastard than even my husband, but no one can train for Azkaban."

Evanna filed that little tidbit away for further examination. She had known her birth mother had been married, but had yet to hear her speak of Rodolphus Lestrange. 

"We need loyal men," Evanna said simply. 

"We need a loyal heir."

Evanna chose not to reply and instead stepped behind the changing screen to don the leather armor. 

There was a double entendre behind the statement, Evanna knew. There was of course the matter at hand: her safe return from the mission to Azkaban. But there was another: just how loyal was Evanna to the cause. For a brief moment, she though of the little fish and chips cart in London. 

_ "Your father is lost.” _

"Be sure you go to your father as soon as you return," Bellatrix said. "He has something he wishes to teach you."

Evanna still did not speak, instead catching her appearance in the mirror. The armor was skin tight--tighter than anything she had ever worn in her life. Though it did not show any skin, the still-forming curves of her body were clearly shown. She knew that cloaks and robes could be deadly in battle, but she felt almost naked without one. She was not sure whether Bellatrix had sensed her embarrassment or not as the older witch pointed her wand at Evanna's hair and it tied itself back in a tight plait. 

"It's time," her mother said. Evanna nodded and let Bellatrix lead her to where the recruits waited outside the Manor with their broomsticks. Evanna did not comment as she recognized several students who had been in the years above her, from all four Houses. At least three had graduated no earlier than this June. 

"This is your Dark Lady," Bellatrix announced. "You take orders from her as you do the Dark Lord. And should she fall and any one of you make it back alive, your life will not be long."

The recruits bowed immediately, nearly as low as she saw her father’s followers do for him. It was a heady feeling, this kind of power, one that could consume her entire self if she was not careful. 

"Where is your broomstick, my lady? Do you need mine?" one of the recruits asked, holding out his own. Evanna's lips curled in a smirk. 

"I don't need a broomstick," was all she said before tugging on that anchor that chained her to the earth with magic and launching herself into the air, colorful smoke all around her. The recruits were watching her from the ground, open-mouthed. 

"We won't ever make it to Azkaban before daybreak if you all don't get moving," she called. 

One by one, they all rose in the air, only Bellatrix remaining on the ground. The wind whipping her hair around her face, Evanna lead the recruits assigned to her through the skies. 

  
  
  
  


The temperature dropped before the prison came into sight. 

  
  


Evanna found herself wishing she had worn a cloak over the fighting leathers as the prison looked tall over the raging northern seas. They were far north enough that the world stayed in a perpetual twilight this time of year. 

"We go in and take our men, nothing more," Evanna called over the wind to the recruits. "The dementors are on our side, or will be soon enough. It is only the Ministry workers who will trouble us."

"And we're what? Just supposed to fight off trained Aurors?" one of the younger recruits--Nealson, she thought--called out. 

“What exactly did you think becoming one of my father’s Death Eaters would involve?” Evanna said, gritting her teeth. “Knitting tea cosies at home?”

Nealson fell silent. 

Evanna did not bother to make sure that the recruits followed her as she landed on top of the darkened tower prison. She felt the recruits land behind her, but more than that, there was the cold, the all-consuming cold that seized her limbs and fogged her brain. She had known it would be bad; that year the dementors had guarded Hogwarts she had barely been able to go outside without feeling faint from her own worst memories and those of her fellow students. 

_ Tu vas faire comme je dit _ , the wind seemed to whisper all around her.  _ Tu vas faire comme je dit.  _

_ You're dead. I killed you _ , she told Lucius' voice sternly. 

She turned to gesture for the men to follow her to the rooftop access her birth mother had told her about. Their pale faces shown in the odd twilight, their eyes blown wide open. She felt more than heard their thoughts; more than one was ready to jump on their brooms and speed away. 

"I will reward and protect those who fight by my side, no matter what Bellatrix said," she told them in a low voice. "But if you run from the battle, there is little anyone can do to keep you from my father's wrath."

She met each recruit’s eyes, still feeling the despair and iciness that Azkaban caused, but in a few of them, there was the smallest flickering flame of something else. 

Loyalty. 

But not to her father. To herself. 

Evanna swallowed, feeling as though she was teetering on a tightrope, high above a sleeping dragon, who would surely awake and swallow her whole should she fall. She knew it was dangerous, to attract the loyalty of her father’s would-be followers. Yet, something of the previous night’s dream echoed in her. 

_ “There is nothing that can be done; his soul is too broken. You must stop his plans.” _

“Keep close to me,” she said, burying the dream down, down, down. 

The first auror they encountered went down immediately with a spell Evanna fired silently. The next, however, was able to sound the alarm, calling more guards to him, wizard and dementor alike. The recruits spread out behind her, ready to fight. 

“No, I’ll handle this!” Evanna shouted. “Free our men!”

“But milady--”

“Now is not the time!” Evanna snarled as a dementor advanced on her. She whirled, sliding under the monstrous thing, cold seeping into her bones as she did so.

The boy’s face was blank, eyes wide in surprise, and completely still--

She shoved the memory away, determined not to give in the way she had as a second year. 

“I recognize you,” an auror said, eyes wide with a shock of pink hair. “Lucius Malfoy’s girl.”

Evanna’s breath hitched in her throat. She knew what her father would expect, for her to kill the auror. But she yet to fire a spell at Evanna.

“You are too young for this, cousin,” the auror said, “I cannot believe You-Know-Who would recruit a little girl.”

“He hasn’t,” Evanna said, bringing up a shield as another auror began to throw spells.

“No time to chat, Tonks,” he shouted. “Arrest them all!”

A flash of red light and Evanna thought she would not have time, when Nealson shot a spell between them. A green spell. The second auror fell almost instantly. But when he tried to fire the same spell at Tonks, Evanna found herself stepping in front of the young auror. 

“Get the prisoners and get out, Nealson!” she roared. 

“Milady, she’s recognized you!”

“GO!”

A lick of Evanna’s grey smoke that usually carried her on the wind snapped at the older boy and he ran, helping the rest to free the Death Eaters. She felt more than saw the young auror rise to confront her and she quickly sent a freezing spell at her. Ice crackled it’s way up Tonks’ body as it froze her to the floor

“I-I kn-know yo-you do-don’t wa-want t-to ki-kill m-me,” the auror said, teeth clattering together. 

“I should have done so already,” Evanna said, mind whirling as she grasped for the power that she had once wielded against her brother. “I’m sorry about this.”

Evanna forcibly ripped away all memory of her presence in the prison, forcing herself not to watch as the auror slumped to the ground in a dead faint. She ran toward the recruits, where they had begun to break open the cell doors of the Death Eaters. She recognized as one ran into the corridor. 

“Mr. Nott!” she exclaimed. 

Theo’s father looked nothing like the aristocrat she had met the night of the ball her father had put on for her. There were deep circles under his eyes, his hair matted and his cheeks thinned even in only the few weeks since the end of term. Something roiled in Evanna’s stomach; this was what the side of the light did to their enemies? And yet, her ancestor had claimed her father to have gone farther down the dark path than any in their lineage. What could be darker than using prisoners as meat offered to beings of pure darkness?

“Evanna,” he rasped. “You came. The Dark Lord sent for us.”

She smiled grimly. “Yes. Now, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters! This semester has been exhausting thus far, so I've probably only written about a sentence every 2-3 days. May not be the best chapter, but it's long! Expect to see some more Evarry soon, as well as Ev learning exactly what kind of Dark Magic her father has been up to....... And may want her involved in as well.


End file.
